


Talking In Circles

by IdrisTardis7878



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Angst, But man, F/M, Gen, The Descent and Ascension era, This fic is IT, but - Freeform, i actually have the first few paragraphs of chapter four tucked away somewhere..., i had so many ideas for this fic, i probably won't now because the mojo just is gone, i wish i had finished it, if any unfinished fic ever haunts me, pre-densi, probably not, so never say never, this was originally written during a REALLY angsty arc on the show, with things i think about late at night that i wish i'd finished writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 00:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17011674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisTardis7878/pseuds/IdrisTardis7878
Summary: After the op with Granger and Monica Davis, Deeks and Kensi struggle to get their partnership back on solid ground, deal with their unspoken "thing," and learn the value of real communication. A series of conversations, involving the whole team, set just after the events of "Parley" and continuing on past "Descent." DENSI-centric, but most of the team appears at some point.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on ff.net in 2013. Original author's note below:
> 
> Author's Note: Hey there everyone! I'm a little nervous to be posting this one, as it's far more ambitious than Eye of the Beholder or In Tune, but I hope you all will like it. This will likely be six or seven chapters long and, as the title implies, will cover a variety of conversations between different members of the NCIS:LA team starting the day after the events in Parley and continuing into the weeks after Descent. I know this chapter is fairly Kensi-free, but this is a Densi story, and she will be much more present in chapter two, which is already in the works. Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Oddly enough, I still don't own any part of NCIS:LA. Sigh.

This was officially the longest work day he'd ever had.  _Ever_. He was sure of it.

First, the morning had crept by at an incredibly slow pace, and now, as Deeks glanced at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time – and that was just counting the times he'd checked it since lunch – he was disappointed, but not surprised, to see that only a few minutes had passed since the last time he'd looked.

 _In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd swear time is actually moving_ _ **backwards**_.

Sighing in resignation, he returned his attention to one of the main sources of the frustration he'd been experiencing since he'd walked into the Mission that morning – namely, the massive pile of paperwork sitting squarely in the center of his desk. Despite his best efforts, the stack seemed only marginally smaller than it had earlier in the day.

He tried to focus on the report lying on top of the pile. There was follow up legwork that needed to be done relating to the investigation in question, but it mostly entailed making routine phone calls and checking in with contacts and Deeks couldn't seem to concentrate on any of it. Thankfully, the first thing he'd done when he'd come in today was deal with all the forms and documents relating to his part in the recently concluded op he'd been participating in for Assistant Director Granger. He'd wanted to put all that behind him as quickly as possible. Since then he had been working his way through a variety of after-action reports for other recent cases and had just hit the cold case section of his pile.

Before he was even consciously aware of doing it, he'd glanced at his watch again – only to be discouraged yet  _again_  by how little time had passed. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he let his gaze drift across the bullpen to the other – much more important – source of his frustration.

Kensi.

Since the end of his op with Granger yesterday evening, he and Kensi had barely spoken. She'd assured him that they were okay when he'd tried talking to her in the armory last night, but he knew her more than well enough by now to know that things between them were pretty damn far away from "good," despite what she'd said. (Although he's fairly sure that even someone who barely knew her could have read her mood from a mile off yesterday). She hadn't hidden her true feelings well at all.  _But then_ , he thought,  _neither did I._

By unspoken agreement, they'd driven to work separately that morning. There hadn't been a new case, so the team had been on paperwork duty all day. And he'd been sneaking glances in her direction all day too.

She'd been avoiding him in a thousand little ways ever since they'd arrived. But unlike yesterday in the armory, her composure was now firmly back in place and she was employing much more subtle tactics in her efforts not to truly engage with him at any point. This sort of avoidance wouldn't have been immediately obvious to an outside observer – she was still speaking to him whenever something in their paperwork necessitated it, and she was unfailingly civil – but Deeks could tell. She was completely professional towards him, but that was  _all_ she was – there was no joking, no teasing, nothing beyond the basics of getting their work done. And her guard was up so high it forcibly reminded him of the early days of their partnership, back when they were stumbling their way towards understanding each other, before their friendship and mutual trust had blossomed. Before their  _thing_  had become whatever the hell it was now. He  _really_  hadn't missed those days. He'd hoped they were gone for good.

 _Guess not_ , he thought ruefully, shaking his head a bit to clear it of that particular train of thought. It wouldn't do anything to help him focus.

She wouldn't make eye contact with him unless it was vitally necessary, he'd started nearly all of their conversations today, she wasn't taking the bait with any of his jokes – not that he felt in the mood to make many – and every time there was the slightest lull in their work, she seemed to disappear like a flash, heading off to take care of some task in one part of the Mission or another. Inevitably, by the time she reappeared, he was always engrossed in the next case file in his stack.

She'd even managed to avoid the one chance he'd thought for sure would guarantee him some one-on-one time with her, choosing to skip lunch in favor of an extra practice session at the firing range. He grimaced, imagining the state the practice targets' groin areas likely had been in after she'd finished. He'd seen her wolfing down a sandwich later at her desk, after he'd come back from a solitary and unsatisfying food truck run. By that point, he'd not had any energy to wonder when she'd managed to get the sandwich or who had given it to her – he knew from past experience that she only ever brought her own lunches once in a blue moon when she'd had a particularly tasty dinner somewhere and had leftovers the next day. So this sandwich was a sign that she'd either snuck out on her own after he'd left for his lunch break, or someone else had gotten it for her. He found he didn't really like the implications of either option.

His gaze lingered on her now, watching as she worked at her own stack of papers – which was currently about a third smaller than his. He was trying to decide whether or not she was  _really_  concentrating on her work, or whether she was just putting extra effort into ignoring him, but before he could decide one way or another, an authoritative voice suddenly spoke up from behind him.

"Having difficulties with your paperwork, I see, Mr. Deeks."

Deeks startled, letting out a muffled yelp of surprise before swiveling his chair around to face their boss. "Hetty! The ninja skills are as sharp as ever. Wow. That was almost a heart attack for me right there. Yup. And no, no difficulties with the files, none. Nope."

She leveled her most penetrating gaze at him, pausing to scrutinize him for a moment before continuing. "The height of that stack," she pointed to the dishearteningly large pile of work still on his desk, "would seem to tell a different story." She arched her eyebrow at him, an expectant look on her face.

"Ah. Right. That. I have an explanation for that," he began, though seeing as he couldn't very well confess to Hetty that he'd spent the better part of the day covertly watching his partner and trying to think of ways to put things right between them, he wasn't sure exactly  _what_  that explanation was going to be. However, luck seemed to be on his side as Hetty shook her head and held up her hand to forestall him.

"Be that as it may, Mr. Deeks, I'm afraid it shall have to wait. There is something more pressing we must discuss." She beckoned for him to follow her as she turned to go to her office. "In  _private_  if you don't mind, Detective." And without even waiting to see if he was behind her, she strode quietly away.

As Deeks leapt to his feet and began to trail Hetty across the bullpen, his thoughts were so focused on the operations manager and what she could have to discuss with him, that he barely noticed Callen's eyes following them. The team leader had a speculative look on his face as he observed them before returning to his own, much smaller, stack of case files.

By the time Deeks emerged from Hetty's office nearly forty minutes later, it was just past five thirty. Crossing quickly to his desk, he shut down his laptop and grabbed his bag, starting to pack up for the night. A quick glance around the bullpen revealed that both Sam and Kensi had apparently already left for the day. His eyes darted to his partner's empty desk one more time before shaking his head. "Right," he muttered under his breath. "Of  _course_."

He slid his jacket on and slung his bag over his shoulder before moving to head towards the exit. He'd rarely been so glad to see a day end – even the days with the most difficult cases didn't feel this bad.  _Though I'm sure I'll feel differently the next time I'm getting shot at,_  he thought to himself with a wry grin. He mumbled a short goodnight to Callen, who was still at his desk. Callen grunted in reply, before Hetty's voice rang out, calling the team leader to her office. "I need to see you post haste, Mr. Callen!"

Deeks made his way down the corridor, nodding to Eric in passing as he pushed open the Mission's heavy wooden door and stepped out into the slanting golden rays of the California early evening sun.

As he ambled slowly to where he'd parked his car, he resolved to keep trying to fix things with Kensi. There was too much riding on it to just give up.

 

* * *

 

_You busy tonight, partner? I thought maybe we could get a drink…catch up?_

**_Can't, Deeks. Not a good night for me._ **

_Sure I can't change your mind? I'm buying…_

**_Sorry, I've got plans._ **

 

* * *

 

He'd stared at his phone for several minutes after getting Kensi's last text, debating whether or not he should send her another message. He'd decided it was best not to – though he'd determined only a couple of hours earlier that he wouldn't give up on trying to get their partnership back to normal, there was only so much he could do if she was going to flat out turn him down. There's persistence, and then there's beating your head against a brick wall, and – as important as Kensi and their partnership were to him – he wasn't in the mood for the latter tonight. He'd just have to try again tomorrow; maybe the passage of another day would help improve her mood.  _And maybe a dozen of her favorite doughnuts tomorrow morning wouldn't hurt, either._

Deeks knew that bribing her with sugar wouldn't be enough on its own, but hopefully it would open the door enough so that they could have a real conversation. He glanced down to where Monty was sprawled next to him on the couch. He rubbed the mutt's head absently, scratching behind Monty's ears as he contemplated what to do with the rest of his suddenly wide open evening. He'd just decided on the oh-so-exciting prospect of ordering a pizza and trying to find something suitably mind-numbing to watch on television when someone knocked on his door.

Frowning slightly, he heaved himself off the couch and moved slowly to the door. The idea that maybe Kensi'd changed her mind and decided to swing by flickered briefly through his thoughts but that hope was quickly dashed when he looked through the peephole. Opening the door and leaning against the frame, he managed to mask the flash of disappointment he felt behind a smile as he greeted his unexpected guest. "Callen," he nodded at the other man, pausing for a moment before continuing. "I haven't been, uh, pseudo-fired again, have I?"

Callen simply stared at him for a moment with a confused look on his face, before his expression morphed to one of understanding. "Was that  _really_  the last time I was here?"

Deeks shrugged, tilting his head in thought. "Give or take a visit." He isn't sure, but Deeks thinks the trace of regret he sees in his teammate's eyes at hearing that is genuine. "Anyway," he says, breaking the slightly awkward moment, "if that's not it, to what do I owe the honor?"

Now it's Callen's turn to shrug. "It's been a long day. I could use a drink. Thought maybe you could too."

It's on the tip of Deeks' tongue to find some way to turn him down – to ask Callen why he didn't ask Sam instead, or why he didn't call or text ahead but just showed up out of the blue. He also wonders for a moment if this is really Callen's own idea at all, or whether the other man is only here at Hetty's suggestion. But despite being almost 100% positive he's being set up for a "friendly" interrogation masquerading as a conversation, he slowly nods and murmurs in agreement before stepping back into his apartment for his jacket and keys. After all, it's not like Kensi will be changing her mind anytime soon, and even a night being subtly grilled by Callen – likely about everything from Deeks' recent work with Granger to the current state of his partnership – will be better than sitting home and aimlessly channel surfing. Probably. It'll be more interesting, at least.

Callen drives, but he'd asked Deeks where they should go as soon as they'd settled into the car. Deeks gave him directions to an only slightly dive-y bar that's an old favorite of his because the beer is cheap and the bartenders aren't too inclined to chat. The clientele isn't overly nosey either; nobody's ever really bothered him when he's come here and so he's found that it's a good place to go to decompress after hard cases. As Callen parks and they walk towards the bar it hits him that it's been awhile since he's been here – most of his post-case unwinding has consisted of take out at his place or Kensi's lately.  _But that's not an option right now, it seems._  He tries to roll the tension out of his shoulders and follows Callen into the bar.

The place is fairly quiet – not surprising, given that it's pretty early in the week – and they easily find seats at the far end of the bar, away from most of the other patrons. For awhile, they do nothing but share a few beers, offer running commentary on the Clippers game that's playing on the television above the bar, and avoid talking about anything related in any way to work. Eventually, the conversation dies down and they sit together in silence.

"So. Is this the part where you read me the riot act?" Deeks looks squarely at Callen, waiting for his team leader to drop the other shoe that Deeks had felt hanging – however metaphorically – over their heads since Callen had knocked on his door.

Callen returns his gaze unblinkingly, but his reply is not at all what Deeks had been expecting. "Now, why would I do that?"

Deeks can't help but snort out a disbelieving laugh. "Oh, I don't know. Going solo on this op, not looping the team in when it looked like I might have a lead, using Max for my alias, nearly botching the op when it got down to the wire, hurting Kensi in the process…take your pick." His tone has turned bitter by the time he finishes.

Callen's eyes never waver from his as Deeks spills the list of what he feels were his mistakes on the recent op for Granger. As he reaches the end, Deeks shifts his gaze away, feeling suddenly uncomfortable under the scrutiny. There's a long pause before Callen speaks, during which Deeks can feel himself become even tenser.

"Well, first of all, I'd be a pretty big hypocrite if I chewed you out for tackling a risky op on your own. I mean, we both know I've  _never_  done that, right?"

Before Deeks can reply, Callen continues. "And this is Granger we're talking about, right? He of the collaborative and generous spirit, who always lets his operatives have input into the running of an op?" Callen shakes his head. "Look. Do I like the fact that I didn't know about any of this until yesterday? Of  _course_  not. Would I rather have had a hand in planning how all of this went down? C'mon. What do you think?" Deeks glances at Callen to find the other man shaking his head before taking a drink of his beer. "But that wasn't your doing, Deeks. I know one of Granger's 'grand plans' when I see one."

Deeks opens his mouth and closes it before clearing his throat. "But  _I_  was the one who let things get out of control. Monica nearly blew the whole deal-"

"So, you asked her to steal the diamonds, then?"

"What? No-"

"But you gave her reason to believe that you would run off with her? I mean –  _Max_  gave her reason to believe that?"

"No, but-"

"So then explain to me again just  _how_  exactly it is that you let things get out of control?" Callen fixes him with another stare, even more piercing than the last. "Because you seem awfully eager to take responsibility for something that doesn't sound like your fault, if you ask me."

Deeks nearly growls with frustration when Callen cuts him off for the third time. He can't understand why the other man seems so determined to place the blame everywhere but on him, when it's  _so_  clear to Deeks that he'd been the one at fault. "It  _is_  my fault that the op was nearly ruined because  _I_  was responsible – for cultivating her as a contact, for using her to snoop at the club, for-"

"That sounds like-"

"-for leading her to believe there was something between us," Deeks continues, his voice rising slightly as he refuses to let Callen interrupt him again. " _I_ was responsible for all that. I  _was_." But that was all he'd had in him to say and so he lapses into silence, staring unseeingly at the television. He shakes his head.  _Yep, this is just about as un-relaxing as I was afraid it might be._

"As I was saying. That sounds like you were doing your job. You had to get info on Johannes and using Monica made sense. She was the easiest, most direct way to get access to the club offices. You picked the right contact, Deeks." Callen pauses for a moment before continuing, his tone slightly less forceful. "You know as well as I do that these fictions-"

"Lies."

"-lies," Callen agrees easily, changing terms without breaking the flow of his thought, "are a necessary part of the job. And yeah, sometimes it really sucks. But she  _had_  to believe you for the op to work, and you  _were_  responsible for the field work on the op. But the idea to steal the diamonds and run off with you was all hers…so  _she's_  responsible for that."

Deeks shakes his head again. "You don't understand," he says quietly.

"Don't I?"

The detective's head shoots up from where his eyes had been locked on the label he was slowly peeling from his beer bottle. He stares at Callen, brow furrowed as he tries to riddle out the older man's meaning. After just a moment, understanding dawns. "Tracy," he murmurs. It isn't really a question.

"Tracy," Callen confirms.

"Huh," Deeks nods sheepishly. "I'd almost forgotten about that."

"Lucky you," Callen mutters. "Believe me, my crazy undercover wife beats your crazy undercover girlfriend, hands down."

"Okay, first off," Deeks begins, ticking the points off on his fingers as he goes, "Tracy was an agent so you're comparing apples and oranges. Secondly, Monica was in no way really  _mine_. And thirdly-"

"Third-"

"Now I see where Kensi picked that up," Deeks chuckles. "Ahem.  _Thirdly_ , Tracy  _was_ your partner on that op, so you didn't have to deal with your partner's reactions  _on top of_  everything else." As soon as Deeks stops speaking, he wishes he could call the words back. He must have had more beers than he'd realized, because he'd pretty much just handed Callen an opening the size of the Grand Canyon as far as his partnership-relationship- _whatever_  with Kensi is concerned.

Surprisingly, Callen doesn't take the bait, at least not immediately. Instead, he opts to continue their current line of conversation. "Tracy ran away to the Caymans and tried to convince me to sail away with her on her yacht."

"Monica tried to get me to run off with her and the diamonds and go to Monaco. I'd say that's about even in the crazy schemes department."

Callen simply looks at him for a moment, before smirking slightly. Then he plays his trump card. "Remind me again, which one of these women stormed a Naval recruitment center and held hostages at gunpoint?"

"Fair point," Deeks concedes, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, "but Monica  _was_  deluded enough to get into a street fight with Kensi…though I have to admit, the Krav Maga was a surprise."

Callen nods. "Today was certainly interesting…in many ways," he says, taking a long drink from his beer.

"It was rough," Deeks replies, hoping he won't have to say more, but Callen doesn't let him off the hook so easily.

"Why was that?" Callen inquires. There's no judgment in his tone, but when Deeks catches his team leader's gaze, Callen's eyes seem to bore directly into him.

Choosing his words carefully, he replies slowly. "Max is  _always_  rough." He pauses, taking a long drink from his beer before continuing. "You know I don't like that cover."

"Monica Davis seemed to like him well enough." Again, Callen's tone is even, but Deeks is wary of where this is headed and keeps his answers guarded.

He nods. "She did…though she also thought it was a good idea to try out theft and extortion on her very dangerous boss, so her judgment…might, uh, might not be the best." He chuckles slightly, but it sounds a bit hollow even to his own ears. The words  _not the brightest Barbie in the doll house_  float into his mind unbidden and, as they'd done earlier in the day, they draw a genuine smile from him.

Callen smirks briefly. "True enough." He takes a sip of his beer before continuing, "is hers the only judgment that's questionable?"

"Look, Callen," he starts, though he's not quite sure what he can really say, "I already told you that I know I screwed up-"

Callen shakes his head. "I wasn't talking about your judgment. Or, well, not  _just_  yours." He looks at Deeks, head tilted slightly to the side. "I listened to some very interesting comm recordings earlier this afternoon."

 _And_ _ **there**_ _it is_ , Deeks thinks. It seems that Callen has finally decided to pick up on Deeks' earlier comments about Kensi's reaction to his involvement with this op, and, more specifically, his involvement with Monica.

"I can't say I'm thrilled with the way  _either_  of you handled that," Callen says, his tone betraying a slight sharpness for the first time all night. "Now, I'm not sure what exactly is going on between you two-"

"We're just-"

"-and don't even try to pull that 'we're just partners' routine, Deeks," Callen shakes his head disbelievingly. "Because I think we both know it's bull."

He doesn't know what he can say – technically nothing  _is_ going on between him and Kensi. They're certainly not involved – not by any normal definition of the word. But they're  _not_ just partners either, at least not as far as he's concerned, and they haven't been for awhile now. For him, the feelings – confusing and unspoken though they are – have been there for some time, and he suspects that the same is true for Kensi. Any denial he can make will only sound false, so he stays mute and just shrugs at Callen, indicating that the other man should continue.

"I'm not telling you what to do in your personal life, Deeks – again, I think I'd be pretty hypocritical if I did. And honestly, I don't really care, unless it has a negative impact on how you do your job." Callen pauses for a moment before finishing his thought. "Most of the time this  _thing_  you and Kensi have going on…it's helpful, actually. The bond the two of you have is part of the way your partnership works and usually you both use it to your advantage. But today…" Callen trails off, shaking his head again. "You're just lucky Monica wasn't really dangerous, or that could've been a disaster."

Again, Deeks stays quiet, knowing that Callen has a valid point. Several of them, actually. So he just nods his head and takes a long sip of his beer. They're quiet again for awhile, their eyes on the television, but there's a bit of tension between them now and Deeks isn't really able to focus on the game. Instead, his thoughts are turned inward, going over what Callen has said. Finally, he turns to the other man, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "I'm sorry, Callen."

Callen makes a dismissive hand gesture. "I'm not looking for you to be sorry," he says, matching Deeks' serious tone. "Just fix it. None of us can afford to be distracted right now – not with Siderov trying to make a deal for those nukes. I'm worried enough about how Sam and Michelle are coping. I need to know that you and Kensi both have your heads completely in the game."

Deeks nods again and mutters a quiet but firm, "understood." Callen seems satisfied with that and the pair returns to watching the game, the silence between them is once again easy and Deeks grins. "We should do this more often, maybe…minus the work-related crises," he says, tilting his head towards Callen. "That is, unless you think Sam will get jealous."

Callen snickers. "I think he can handle it," he says. "Though I'd try to stay on his good side, just in case."

They linger at the bar for a little while longer, until Callen feels sober enough to drive and they head back to Deeks' apartment. As Deeks gets out of Callen's car, he leans down for a moment, ducking his head back inside the still open passenger-side door. "Thanks," he says quietly. "For the beer…and the advice. I won't let you down."

Callen just looks at him steadily. "I know," he says, a genuine smile on his face. "Goodnight Deeks."

"Night," he mutters, shutting the car door and watching for a beat as Callen drives off. As he walks slowly up the path to the door of his apartment, he finds he's still thinking about parts of his conversation with Callen, the words  _just fix it_  rebounding around and around in his brain. He  _wants_  to fix things with Kensi – God knows he does – he's just not sure  _how_.

He lets himself into his apartment, smiling at Monty as his faithful pooch comes over to head-butt his knees as he closes and locks the door. He reaches down to pat Monty's head before walking down the short hall to his bedroom. His dog follows him, his short nails clicking on the hardwood floor, the sound comfortingly familiar to Deeks. Monty curls up on the end of Deeks' bed and settles down as Deeks gets ready for bed himself, still considering his options where his partner is concerned.

This  _thing_  between them has gotten past the point where either of them can plausibly deny it, as Callen proved to him earlier in the evening. But his team leader was also right that it was starting to be a distraction, rather than just being part of their partnership. And that could be dangerous – in more ways than one.

 _There are really only three choices_ , he thinks as he slides into bed, reaching over to the nightstand and setting the alarm on his phone for the morning.  _Fight it, accept it, or let it go._  As he lies there, staring at the ceiling and willing sleep to come, he realizes that there's really only one of those options that he can live with.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original author's note below:
> 
> Author's Note: Sorry it's taken me a little while to be able to post chapter two, and thank you all for your patience! This chapter fought me a bit...trying to find Kensi's more vulnerable "voice" yet keep her in character was a bit more of a challenge than I thought it would be, and so I ended up re-writing parts of this chapter several times. Hope that you all enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Still don't own it...despite wishing to the contrary. :)

Kensi felt the beads of sweat break out along her hairline and begin to trickle down the sides of her face as she ran. Wiping them away before they reached her eyes, she continued to push her pace. She was enjoying the workout, even though she knew she was testing her limits. Her lungs were beginning to burn with the effort of keeping up with her rapid strides, and she could hear the thudding drumbeat of her pulse as it echoed in her ears. Still, it wasn't  _quite_  loud enough to drown out the persistent thoughts that had been plaguing her ever since she'd left work earlier that evening.

It was as though no matter how fast she ran, she couldn't completely turn off her mind the way she usually could during her workouts. So instead of the exercise soothing and centering her, she was only becoming increasingly riled up.

_"I'm glad our thing is working out…"_

**_Thudthud_ **

_"You wanna make a baby? You wanna make it with me?"_

**_Thudthud_ **

_"You're just broken, Deeks." "Yeah, well, no argument from me there."_

**_Thudthud_ **

_"I'm not talking about what they want. I'm talking about us."_

**_Thudthud_ **

_"I thought you'd have more to say."_

**_Thudthud_ **

_"You wanna play house?"_

**_Thudthud_ **

_"You're the only person I trust."_

**_Thudthud_ **

_"That's my girl."_

**_Thudthud_ **

_"Promise me you'll never do that…"_

**_Thudthud_ **

_"We were what we were…"_

**_Thudthud_ **

_"Lies of omission are still lies."_

**_Thudthud_ **

_"What's this? Kensi Blye going all soft on me?"_

**_Thudthud_ **

_"I'm good if you're good…I'm good if you're good…I'm good if you're good…"_

**_Thudthud...Thudthud...Thudthud..._ ** _**Thudthud...** _

Kensi slowed to a halt and bent over slightly, bracing her hands on her knees and struggling to catch her breath as her heartbeat now thundered in her ears. She felt overwhelmed, though she suspected it had more to do with the cascade of memories that had been washing over her than it did with her racing pulse. It seemed as though her subconscious was dredging up just about every significant moment in her relationship with Deeks and throwing it at her.

 _Partnership_ , she reminded herself.  ** _Not_** _relationship._

Straightening, she walked slowly for a little while, taking in the view from the jogging path as it wound along the edge of the beach. She sighed, running her hands through her hair and quickly re-making the ponytail that had become messy and windblown during her rather aggressive run.

She continued ambling along the path, heading for the low concrete wall that separated it from the sand. She propped her right foot on the top of the wall and extended her leg in front of her. Leaning over and reaching for her toes with both hands, she stretched, the muscles in her back and upper legs protesting a bit. After a moment, she switched legs and repeated the stretch, then bounced on her heels a little and shook the heaviness out of her limbs.

Despite knowing that it was starting to get late enough that she really ought to turn around and head back, she couldn't help but hang back for a few more minutes. The sun still had a ways to go before it set, but the angle of the light was just starting to change and the beach was awash in a perfect golden glow that was ever-so-slightly tinged with the deeper orange hues that signaled the eventual sunset. If tonight were a normal night after the kind of slow day they'd had at work, she'd be calling Deeks right about now to see if he were up for takeout and a movie on her couch later. Or he'd be calling her to see if she wanted to come down and "keep Monty company" while he surfed. One way or the other, the odds – were circumstances not what they were – that they'd be spending the evening in each other's company were high.

In fact, even though he really  _was_ the last person she wanted to see right now, she couldn't help reflexively scanning the waterline, looking for a familiar lanky figure trying to catch one last wave for the day. That was when she realized that the jogging route she'd chosen took her past his favorite beach.  _Dammit_ , she berated herself.  _Not helping, Kensi. Not at_ _ **all**_ _._

Shaking her head, she took one last deep breath of salt sea air and, blowing it out slowly, turned on her heel and headed back to her bungalow, still moving quickly but at a much more reasonable pace than she'd been setting earlier. She'd really hoped that a long, hard run would keep her from thinking about him, about  _them_ and the mess that their partnership was right now, about  _anything_  really. But it hadn't worked and now she felt physically tired on top of being mentally exhausted.

Arriving back at her house, she checked her phone only to find that she'd gotten a text from Deeks while she'd been running. She'd been trying her best to ignore him all day, and she'd hoped that he'd gotten the picture.  _Guess it didn't sink in._ Oh it had been hard, completely freezing him out of anything more than the most basic, work-related conversations. Hard, but necessary, if she were going to keep her sanity – which she desperately wanted to do. She quickly replied, declining his offer of drinks, unsure whether to be even more irked that he seemed to think all he had to do was offer to take her out for beers and all would be forgiven.  _Not even partida elegante anejo would get him out of this one_ , she thought to herself with a bitter smirk as she walked into her kitchen and grabbed a bottle of cold water out of the fridge. She leaned against the counter, taking a long drink as she cooled down from her run.

 _Next thing you know, he'll be resorting to doughnuts – I bet I'll have more of them than even_ _ **I**_ _can eat hand-delivered to me over the next few days_ , she thought grumpily as she moved back into her living room and kicked off her running shoes, sending them flying in the general direction of the corner near the front door. Her cell phone chimed again, another text message from her partner lighting up the screen. She frowned. His persistence wasn't surprising, but it  _really_  wasn't what she wanted to deal with right now. She fired off a second reply that was even shorter and more pointed than the first before stalking down the hallway to her bedroom and tossing the phone down on her bed. She set the bottle of water on her nightstand and started to get ready for a shower. She only hoped that he didn't try contacting her again tonight.

Kensi was grateful that she actually did have real plans that evening that didn't involve her partner. That way, if he didn't take no for an answer and showed up at her place anyway, she wouldn't be there. She'd originally had dinner plans with her mother for the coming weekend, but Julia had gotten an unexpected opportunity to go on an all day trip with a friend of hers that she rarely got to see, and so had called Kensi early yesterday morning and asked if they could reschedule for tonight. Kensi had agreed readily enough, and now, in the wake of everything that had happened at work over the past couple of days, she was doubly glad that she'd be getting to see her mom tonight. She couldn't  _quite_  bring herself to feel bad about not telling Deeks what she was doing though – given the high number of things he'd failed to tell her recently, she thought he deserved to stew over her plans at least a little bit.

She stepped into the shower and turned on the soothingly cool water, trying to force her thoughts away from the complicated situation with her partner and onto the upcoming dinner with her mother. The relationship Kensi had with her mother was sometimes still a little tricky to navigate, but they'd come a remarkably long way in the year or so since they'd reentered one another's lives. Dinners like this were pretty common for them now, and Kensi was slowly, but gladly, finding herself getting used to having her mother in her life again. Sometimes, Kensi's work or Julia's commitments – on top of her freelance business as a professional organizer she seemed to volunteer at what was, to Kensi, an insane amount of different organizations – prevented them from seeing each other as frequently as they'd like, but they both made the effort not to let a month go by without doing  _something_  together, even if it was just grabbing a quick cup of coffee.

About a half an hour later, Kensi was heading out the door. She had one stop to make on the way to her mother's house, and she hoped she'd be able to get there before the shop in question closed. Luckily, she made it just under the wire and was soon walking out of the bakery with a large square box containing her mother's favorite cake. It was part of the deal they had for these evenings – the host cooked the dinner, and whichever of them was the guest brought dessert. Kensi angled to be the guest as often as she could, not just because it gave her more chances to indulge her own sweet tooth, but because every time Julia came for dinner at her bungalow, Kensi could practically see the cleaning and reorganizing gears spinning in her mother's head, which in turn drove Kensi up the wall. It was better for their still healing relationship if they avoided that scenario as much as possible.

After a roughly twenty minute drive, Kensi pulled up outside her mother's house in Encino as the very last rays of sunshine were filtering through the neighborhood's trees, casting long shadows across the perfectly manicured lawns of the rather impressive houses that Kensi always found herself slightly in awe of every time she came here. She grabbed the cake and locked her car, and a few moments later she was ringing her mother's doorbell. Before she knew it, the door was swinging open and her mother was beaming at her.

"Sweetheart, you're early!" her mother said delightedly, only a hint of surprise lacing her voice. "And you have the cake – wonderful! Come in, come in," Julia gestured for Kensi to join her inside before reaching out and pulling her into a quick hug.

Kensi smiled back at her mother. The older woman's enthusiasm was infectious, and just what Kensi needed right now to help lift her spirits. "Hey, Mom, it's good to see you," she murmured as she squeezed her mother back, carefully keeping the cake from getting smooshed between them.

"I'm so glad you didn't mind switching to tonight," Julia said as she closed the door behind them and led the way back towards the kitchen. "When Jeanie asked if I wanted to go out to Catalina for the art fair this weekend, I really wanted to be able to say yes – it's so rare that our schedules line up for us to do anything."

Following her mother and putting the cake on the large center island before shrugging off her jacket and hanging it on the back of a nearby chair, Kensi tamped down a slight surge of annoyance. She'd been more than willing to change their dinner plans to this evening, so she knew it was irrational to feel this way, even momentarily – still, she couldn't help it. She found that this was one of the things she still had to work through where her mother was concerned – the perception that she was being shuffled aside, even for something as innocuous as a friend and an art show, could sometimes cause feelings from the time of her parents' divorce to flare up with startling intensity.

It had been a time in her life when Kensi had often felt like a second choice in her mother's eyes – as though what her mother was rushing  _towards_ was more important to her than what she  _already_ had. Even though she knew a great deal now that she didn't know then, it was hard for Kensi to shake these old perceptions – even when she  _knew_  her hurt feelings were unfounded. It was a mark of the progress that she and Julia had made that Kensi refrained from voicing these thoughts. Instead she took a long, slow breath, let it go, and exhaled with a smile. "It wasn't a problem. In fact, it worked out well for me too, actually," she said, "and it's nice that you'll get to see Jeanie. That sounds like it'll be a fun day."

"It will be, I'm sure. As long as she doesn't drag me to every single stall and we get to spend at least some time having lunch and enjoying the scenery," Julia said, leaning over to check something that was simmering on the stove. "Now, since you were early, you can help me finish getting everything ready."

"Mom-" Kensi began to protest, but Julia cut her off.

"Uh uh. No arguments. All I'm asking is that you handle the salad. I'll make sure the chicken is ready," her mother winked at her and shoved a head of lettuce into her hands without letting Kensi say anything else. Motioning her towards the sink, Julia continued. "Go! Rinse! The sooner everything's ready, the quicker we can sit down. I know I'm hungry, and I'm guessing you are too."

 

* * *

 

A little over an hour later, there was very little left on either of their plates, and Julia was just finishing talking about the recent adopt-a-thon they'd held at the animal shelter she volunteered at. Though her mother was telling a fairly amusing story about one of the puppies the shelter had been able to place that day, Kensi found herself listening with only half an ear – her mind occasionally drifting back to her seemingly hopeless situation with her partner. She aimlessly pushed the last few bites of chicken around her plate as her mother was speaking. "…I do wish you would reconsider. I'm sure I could find you a suitable match."

"Huh?" Kensi's focus snapped fully back to her mother at that. " _What_  did you say?"

Julia sighed, as if she knew that Kensi's attention had wandered. "I  _said_ , I wish you would reconsider about letting me try to match you with a shelter dog. I know I could find you one you'd like."

"Oh." Now it was Kensi's turn to sigh. "We've been over this, Mom." It had been a repeated topic of conversation between them recently, but so far, Kensi hadn't budged in her refusal.

"I just think it would be fun for you, sweetheart. And I hate to think of you always coming home to an empty house…though I'm not one to talk on that score, really. But I have been thinking about adopting this sweet golden retriever who-"

"Mom," Kensi said softly, leaning back and setting her fork down on her mostly empty plate, "with the long – not to mention sometimes random – hours I keep, I just don't think it's very logical. And c'mon. You know my track record with plants. I'd probably be more dangerous than helpful to the poor thing."

"Nonsense. Besides, your partner has a dog, doesn't he? He manages it and he must keep a similar schedule to yours. I'm sure you could figure it all out. Maybe he'd help you."

"I actually  _have_  dog-sat for him from time to time, but…" Kensi trailed off, as she realized that the last time Deeks had asked her to take care of Monty had been a little over a month ago. She'd had the dog for an entire week while Deeks had been called in for an undercover assignment with LAPD. Or, rather, while he'd  _said_  that he'd been called in by LAPD. Now, Kensi wasn't so sure that he hadn't been off working on the case for Granger, namely, building up his cover relationship with Monica Davis. She shook her head abruptly, derailing that train of thought before it could go any further, and she mentally cursed at herself for ever mentioning Monty to her mother. She forced a smile back onto her face before glancing up at Julia. "I just don't think it's a good idea."

Her mother raised her hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I know when I'm beaten." She took a sip of her wine, finishing the last of her glass. "Now, if you have any room left at all, how about some of that cake? It would be a shame for you to have brought it all the way up here for nothing."

"As you should know, I  _always_  have room for cake," Kensi said, pushing back from the table and helping her mother carry the dinner dishes through to the kitchen. She and her mother might still have some issues to work on, but one thing that had – and likely always would – bond them was their shared love of sweets. It was one of the few things Kensi  _hadn't_  had in common with her father, whose meat-and-potatoes preferences had gone hand in hand with his overall sense of discipline and rigor. From the time that she'd been little, it had always been her mother with whom she'd enjoyed sneaking sweet treats.

They stood together at the sink, Julia rinsing the dinner dishes and Kensi slipping them into the dishwasher. As Kensi was putting the last of the plates into the machine, her mother opened the bakery box and took out the decadent chocolate raspberry cake. As Julia was cutting them two generous slices, she asked, "how about dessert on the back patio? It's such a nice night for it."

Kensi nodded, and they quickly put together a tray with the cake slices and some coffee and settled themselves into the cushioned chairs around Julia's outdoor patio table. They'd only been sitting there for a few minutes, enjoying the light breeze that stirred the air of the warm spring night, when Julia set her coffee mug down with a  _thunk_  and turned to Kensi. Propping her chin on her hand, she leaned in and without any warning simply said. "Alright, Kensi. I'm not  _quite_  sure what's been bothering you all evening, but I know that there's something, so out with it."

The rather abrupt change in her mother's tone caused Kensi to nearly choke on the bite of cake that she'd been in the middle of swallowing. Managing to get it down, she coughed slightly before speaking. "Don't know what you mean, Mom. Work's been a little tiring, but everything's fi-"

"Kensi, give me a little credit, please," her mother said, looking at her with eyes that seemed suddenly far too perceptive. "We might still be getting our footing back with one another, but there are some things a mother just  _knows_. And some things don't change – when something's bothering you, you get the same look on your face now that you did when you were eight years old."

"I do not!" Kensi protested, hearing how childish the words sounded even as she couldn't help but blurt them out.

"You're doing it right now!" Julia retorted, pointing at Kensi's face. "It's that little frown between your eyebrows that gives it away. Look," her tone softened and she reached out a hand to squeeze one of Kensi's. "I just want to help you with whatever it is if I can – mother's prerogative."

Kensi gazed out into the darkness towards where her mother's backyard hedge seemed to melt into the deepening twilight shadows. At first, she couldn't bring herself to say anything, and then she wasn't quite sure where to start, but her mother just sat, waiting patiently for her to gather her thoughts, holding her hand all the while. In the end, what she said first surprised her almost as much as it seemed to startle Julia. "Sometimes I really hate my job, Mom.  _Really_  hate it."

She glanced quickly at Julia, whose mouth was open in shock. "But…you've always seemed to love it. Live for it, even," she murmured. "Where is this coming from?"

Choosing not to answer her mother's question directly, instead she continued almost as though Julia hadn't spoken. "I mean, I  _do_  love it – the challenge of solving the cases, the excitement of some of the undercover work. A day doing what I do…it's never boring, for sure. But…there are things that make it  _so_  hard sometimes, and I-" she stopped herself, letting out a deep breath before going on, changing gears slightly. "-it's easy to lose track of what's real in this job. Doing what we do…sometimes I wonder if the prices we're paying are worth it."

"Kensi…sweetheart…did something happen?" Julia's voice was almost impossibly low, her tone overflowing with worry.

She started to shake her head no in response to her mother's question, but, realizing that it wouldn't be a fully honest answer, she changed course mid-motion and shrugged instead. "Rough case," she murmured. "Can't really go into detail," she looked at Julia then, the apology in her gaze mingled with a plea for understanding.

Her mother nodded. "Of course. I know there are things you'll never be able to tell me about what you do."

There was no sting in Julia's words, but Kensi felt a bit guilty anyhow. It didn't seem fair to her sometimes that she'd reconnected with her mother after so long only to have to keep a fairly large wall between them where her work was concerned. She was about to respond when her mother's face lit up. "But what about Marty? He's your partner – surely you could talk to him about it if it's bothering you this much. No security breach there," her mother said, a gentle teasing in her voice.

Kensi looked back down at her half-finished slice of cake, a long pause swelling between them before she spoke again. "Uh…not really an option," was all she could manage.

"Oh," was all Julia said before another silence settled over them. When Kensi looked up a moment later and met her mother's eyes, she found that Julia had a thoughtful expression on her face. "His case, then?" she asked and Kensi nodded. "But rough on you? Because of whatever he had to do?" Kensi nodded again, albeit more reluctantly than the first time, but she had a feeling that her mother already knew the answers anyway. "And that's why you don't want to talk to him now," she finished. This time, there was no question in her words but Kensi nodded anyway. Thankfully, her mother didn't press further. Julia didn't ask any more questions or, indeed, say anything else at all for awhile. She released Kensi's hand and simply went back to her cake, taking and slowly savoring a few bites.

They sat together quietly. The only sounds were the rustling of the leaves in the trees that provided a canopy for the spacious backyard as the breeze continued to swirl through them, and a burst of barking from a neighbor's dog that quickly died away. Finally, Kensi couldn't take the silence anymore and she started speaking quickly. Once she began, the words poured out of her like water spilling out of an uncorked bottle. She wasn't entirely sure that what she was saying made sense, but she couldn't seem to hold herself back anymore. "I…it's just…there are things…things in this job that…we have to lie, Mom. A lot. To a lot of people, about a lot of things," she took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, trying to focus her thoughts before she continued. "And sometimes there are things we can't say…lies of omission, which, in their own way are almost as bad. But most of the time, the people we're lying to are the people we're investigating. It's necessary." She's aware that she sounds a bit like she's trying to convince someone – she's just not sure if it's her mother or herself. "And while we're lying to them, they're almost always lying to us and we're trying to…to 'read' them, and sort out the bits of truth that are hiding in what they're saying."

"What you do isn't easy, sweetheart," Julia said, and Kensi could hear both sympathy and, she was pleasantly surprised to note, admiration, in her mother's voice. There was no trace of pity though, for which Kensi was grateful.

"Thanks." She reached out for her coffee, taking a long sip of the now lukewarm liquid before continuing. "It's not. And, really, the only way to make it easier – or, the only way that's ever worked for me, is to keep a few touchstones….things that you believe are unshakably true…mentally tucked away. When an undercover assignment gets crazy, and everything else seems like it's gone upside down, I can usually count on those things to pull me back and ground me. They're things to hold onto…things I can count on…when it's hard to separate the false and the true in everything else."

Kensi reached up and rubbed her temple with the hand not holding her mug; her head had started to throb slightly as she spoke. She sighed, finishing her somewhat rambling speech. "This case…uh…this case that Deeks was working…let's just say that it called a lot of my touchstones into doubt." She swallowed heavily, past the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.

 _Maybe I don't know him as well as I thought I did. Or maybe he's just_ _ **that**_ _much better at lying than I ever even knew…but I'm_ _ **supposed**_ _to know…I'm supposed to be able to read him, when no one else can…and I never saw this coming._ _ **Any**_ _of it._ The thoughts hit her hard, making her stomach lurch unpleasantly. She realizes in that moment that she feels like he betrayed them – and their  _thing_  – on this op, but she doesn't really know how to say that to her mother, when she's never even mentioned Deeks to Julia as anything more than her partner and friend. But it's also more than that – he'd seemed to put this mission ahead of their partnership, and going solo ahead of working with their team, both things she wouldn't have believed he'd do even a week ago.

Knowing she needs to say  _something_  else to her mother, she finally continued. "He hid things from me…and…I'm not used to being on the outside of the cases looking in – I'm not dealing with it too well.  _Obviously_. I'm angry…and I know it's irrational, because when it comes down to it, he  _was_ just doing his job…and I know that…that  _everything_ he did on this case was part of that. How can I be angry at him for doing what he was supposed to do?" She looked at her mother helplessly. "But I am…and I can't seem to let it go. And that makes me mad at myself because I know I'm being stupid." She reached out for her fork and, studiously avoiding her mother's eyes, broke off a large chunk of cake and nibbled at it absently, silently berating herself for blurting out what seemed like practically every thought that had been bouncing around in her mind since this whole thing came to light yesterday morning.  _Since the first time I saw the footage of Monica kiss him, if I'm being completely honest_ , she thought.

She heard her mother sigh softly. "Oh Kensi…" Julia didn't say anything else immediately, but after a few moments, she spoke again, her voice clear in the quiet of the evening. "I know what you're feeling, more than you think." Julia looked at her squarely. "You know as well as I do that every time your father came back home, he couldn't talk about anything he'd been doing with a civilian, even his wife. I knew that it was part of the protocol of his job – it didn't make it any less frustrating back then, though. You have a right to what you're feeling. Even if your common sense is telling you that technically, Marty did nothing wrong, being excluded – and in your case, from situations you'd usually share together – has got to be incredibly difficult." She reached out and took Kensi's hand in hers again, squeezing it gently. "The last thing you could ever be is stupid, sweetheart."

Julia smiled at Kensi, but it was tinged with a bit of wistful sadness. "But if I can tell you just one thing that I learned from my own experiences…it takes two people to build something, but it also takes two people to break it." She looked away from Kensi, but didn't let go of her hand. "It was easy, at the time, to take out all my frustration on your father and blame him for his secretiveness, and for putting us in a difficult situation in the first place just by pursuing the career he'd chosen. But I was just as responsible for what went wrong between us in our marriage," her gaze returned to Kensi and their eyes locked. "It took me a long time to see it –  _too_ long – but I could have handled things a lot better than I did. But I pulled away instead, and started keeping secrets of my own, and it didn't help anything. Don't make the same mistakes I did, Kensi."

"But Deeks and I aren't toge-" Kensi started, before Julia cut her off with a wave of her free hand.

"I know," her mother said with a gentle smile. "But from everything you've told me, you two sound like you're very close, and you depend on each other for a lot – at work and outside of it. It might not be a marriage we're talking about here, but I think the advice I'm giving you still applies."

"But he was-"

"Hold your horses, kiddo," Julia said with a dry chuckle and a fond shake of her head. "I know he's responsible for a lot of the problem too. I'm just saying…you have to ask yourself what's important. In the end, do you still want to work with him?  _Can_  you? Is the partnership worth salvaging?"

Kensi murmured a straightforward, unhesitating, "yes." And it was true. Despite how she felt at the moment, Kensi knew deep down that she didn't want to be partnered with anyone but Deeks. And fixing things between them was incredibly important to her. She just had no idea  _how_.

Her mother smiled fully then, and squeezed her hand once more before releasing it. "Then in the long run, sweetheart, this too shall pass. You just have to be patient…and try to meet him halfway."

A small, self-deprecating laugh escaped Kensi then. "Because we both know I'm  _so_  good at both of those things," she quipped.

Julia laughed along with her, but stopped after a moment. "I have faith in you, Kensi…and most of what I know of your partner is from what you've told me, but he doesn't seem like the type to give up on the things – or the people – that matter to him."

Kensi nodded at that. "He can be irritatingly stubborn," she smiled slightly. "I guess we have that in common."

"No comment," Julia said with another chuckle, and the pair sat there for a little while longer, enjoying the rest of their dessert and the pleasant evening air as they moved on to other topics of discussion. A little under an hour later, Kensi glanced at her watch and groaned when she saw the time.

"Ugh. This has been great, Mom, but I really better get going. Getting up for work tomorrow will not be fun if I don't get some sleep soon," she muttered, standing and grabbing some of the dirty dishes to take back into the house.

They said their goodbyes at Julia's front door, and her mother wrapped her up in a hug, squeezing her tightly before letting her go. "Remember," she whispered in Kensi's ear, "patience."

Kensi nodded as she stepped back from her mother. "I'll try," she murmured. "But I doubt it will be easy."

"Things that are worth it usually aren't easy. And since when have you been interested in doing things the easy way anyhow?" her mother arched a knowing eyebrow at her. "Goodnight, sweetheart," Julia waved as Kensi started down the walk towards her car.

Kensi turned slightly and waved back, calling goodnight to her mother one more time just before opening the driver's side door and sliding behind the wheel. During the drive back to her own bungalow, she couldn't help but turn parts of the evening's conversation over and over in her mind. She realized that she felt much calmer than she had when she'd left work earlier in the day, and she was grateful for her mother's listening ear and good advice – but despite all that, she was still unsure about more things than she would like, and she could feel a simmering frustration at Deeks and the whole situation with Granger's op that still hadn't quite gone away.

She sighed as she pulled into her own driveway and got out of the car. She didn't like that so many familiar things in her life were so jumbled and confused right now. But there was one thing that she  _was_  sure of – one touchstone that she had left.

She was a Blye, and Blyes don't back down from challenges – no matter how difficult.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original author's note below:
> 
> Author's Note:I am so happy to finally be able to post this chapter - I hope that there are still people interested in reading this story! I apologize for the long gap since chapter two. It's due to a combination of an extended summer trip, my old computer getting fried in a storm as soon as I got back from said trip, and then work becoming beyond crazy this fall. In a way, it turned out to be a positive that I hadn't posted it yet by the time the premiere happened last week, as I was able to adjust some things to better fit with what happened in Ascension. There are a few differences in the timeline of my story from what actually happened on the show though - most importantly, the chapter takes place over about a week...with Sam and Deeks being rescued just before it begins and their one-on-one conversation near the end. This means they don't do everything exactly the way it was shown in the premiere...but to say any more would be too give away too much of what I did and then there'd be no point in reading! I hope my slight departures from the show's chronology are not not confusing and that you all enjoy! I should also say that this chapter contains a nod to the fantastic ff.net user Bee.Eh.Vee - I borrowed the idea of a certain friendship from her wonderful fic Fluffy Hair and Nosy Bosses - you should all go check it out! Also, I paid homage to a certain description of Callen by the amazing ff.net user Peanutbutterer. Last, but not least, this chapter is very Sam and Deeks centric, but for those wondering about Kensi, chapter four will focus much more on her...and yes, she and Deeks will eventually talk directly!
> 
> Warning: This chapter does contain a lot of references to the torture scenes and some pretty painful recovery moments. (I did my best with medical terminology - here's hoping I got it right!). Deeks also has some pretty trippy dreams...so look out!
> 
> Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own the show or it's characters!

Sam felt terrible, though if he were being brutally honest, the word was an understatement. When it came down to it, he actually wasn't sure there  _were_  words powerful enough to describe the state he was currently in.

Even now, a full day after being rescued from the horror that had been his time in Sidorov's torture room, his chest ached with every breath. Random waves of heat frequently radiated through his body without warning, causing him to break out into heavy beads of sweat. And his hands – which had suffered the severest burns from being wrapped around the metal arms of the chair he'd been strapped to when Andros had turned on the current – were on  _fire_. The skin on his palms felt like it was crackling and burning every second despite the pain medication he'd been given. He looked down at them briefly, observing the thick gauze bandages that had been wound around both of his hands and up his forearms with an unhappy frown.

More troubling, though, was the heart monitor he was hooked up to. The doctors had explained that in the wake of the repeated electrical charge that had been sent through his body, he was at a severe risk of developing an arrhythmia. They were also monitoring him closely for the possibility of blood clots. Ever since the paramedics had loaded him into the ambulance back at the auto body shop where they had been held, he'd been wracked with a series of uncontrollable, randomly-occurring muscle spasms. Thankfully those had begun to subside this morning. Though he was grateful for any progress that he was making, he was frustrated at how slow the improvements felt. Never mind that he'd only been here for a day – he already wanted out. When he'd found out that Michelle had been put back in play with Sidorov, he'd had to summon all the strength he'd possessed not to disobey Hetty's directive to stay in the hospital. Sitting idly by while his wife's life had continued to be in danger was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but he knew that there was no way he could effectively chase anyone in his condition, much less engage in hand to hand combat or fire a gun. He'd have been more of a liability to the mission – and to Michelle – than an asset at the moment, so he'd reluctantly stayed put.

Thankfully she, along with Callen and Kensi had succeeded in neutralizing at least part of the threat. Sidorov and Andros were dead, though the account Callen had given him of their helipad shootout with Sidorov and his faithful sidekick was lighter on the details than he would have liked – he was fairly certain that his partner wasn't telling him everything, but he couldn't tell if it was because something bad had happened with Michelle before they took Sidorov down and Callen was trying to protect him, or because Janvier and Viziri had fallen off the grid one after the other and his partner was completely strung out trying to find them both  _and_  locate the dock where the ship carrying the bombs was anchored before it sailed.  _He_ _ **might**_ _not be hiding anything_ , Sam thought to himself,  _it might just be that he's distracted – when he visited this morning he_ _ **did**_ _think they'd gotten a lead on Viziri's location, after all. But he has that look…I_ _ **know**_ _that look. Like he swallowed a damn bee. Something happened at that hotel that he's not telling me…and neither is Michelle._

In an attempt to get his mind off what was turning out to be a fairly frustrating train of thought he looked around the sterile hospital room, studying his surroundings for what felt like the millionth time. It was still fairly early in the evening, and, for the first time since his arrival at the hospital, he found himself totally on his own. The entire team had visited last night once he'd been settled. They'd all crowded into his small room, despite the doctor's objections, and recounted their takedown of Sidorov before moving on to other subjects. Actually, though, the  _entire_ team hadn't been there – Deeks couldn't be, of course, and as Sam thought back over the evening, he realized that Kensi hadn't stayed very long. She'd slipped out quietly when Callen was in the middle of a story about an old mission gone comically awry. Sam had a pretty good idea as to where she'd probably gone.

Michelle had spent the better part of today with him, only going home after he'd practically forced her to, talking her into it by reminding her she wanted to check on the kids. Now, Sam finally felt marginally better – he'd been able to sit up for a fairly long stretch of time without pain and his myriad symptoms seemed to all be lessening, even if only fractionally. Callen had been there again earlier, the lead on Viziri from this morning having been a bust, and he'd promised he'd stay through dinner and beyond, so Michelle had reluctantly taken her leave.

They'd eaten – or, well, Callen had, having grabbed some takeout on his way to the hospital. Sam wasn't sure you could classify his dinner as actual food. He was on liquids and soft solids, so his meal tray had held an unappetizing bowl of chicken soup, a cup of something that was attempting to be tea and failing, and a glob of vanilla pudding that more closely resembled drywall spackle. He'd managed to choke down enough of it to satisfy the nurse, and he and Callen had spent a couple of hours talking before he convinced his partner that he was feeling sleepy and he'd be fine on his own.

In truth, he  _had_  been tired, and after Callen had left he'd even fallen asleep briefly. But he'd woken again about half an hour ago and now found that he was unable to go back to sleep. He didn't feel much like watching television and so was sitting there, bored out of his mind and feeling as physically miserable as he could remember being in a long time. In his line of work, that was saying something.

Since it was the first uninterrupted stretch of time he'd had to himself during which he'd also been fairly alert, his mind soon started to wander to the events that had brought him here. He'd been too out of it and in pain at first to actively think everything through clearly – though he was reliving it in nightmares already – and though Michelle and Callen had brought him up to speed on the basic details of the ongoing hunt for Viziri, Janvier, and the bombs once he'd stabilized, he'd not had a stretch of time to really contemplate what had happened to bring him to this moment.

As his thoughts traveled back through the events he'd so recently experienced, that one small word –  _him_ – snagged his attention. He needed to think, that much was true, but of what had brought  _them_  here, not  _him_. He'd not been alone in what he'd gone through, and as his mind drifted to Deeks, the frown that had settled over his features earlier only deepened. Callen had given him basic updates on their teammate, and none of them had been very encouraging. Initially, he'd seemed to be in marginally better shape than Sam when the pair had been brought in yesterday afternoon – though he'd had a couple of cracked ribs, a broken finger, and some facial lacerations, the worst of his injuries were the drill-induced wounds in his mouth, which a surgical dentist had seen to immediately. Sam grimaced, the memory of the surgeon's overly aggressive attempts to look in Deeks' mouth and the detective's subsequent panicked reaction were all too fresh in his mind.

But it was late last night that Deeks' condition had apparently taken a significant turn for the worse. He'd developed a blood infection – likely in response to the fact that the drill Sidorov and his goon had used on him hadn't been sterile.

 _Not sterile_ , Sam thought to himself with a frown.  _There's another understatement_.

Callen had told him that Deeks had spiked an extremely high fever overnight and though the doctor overseeing his case had apparently prescribed a heavy load of antibiotics immediately, the detective was slipping in and out of consciousness and lucidity as he fought the infection in his system. From what Callen said, it was too early to tell whether or not Deeks would win that fight. Sam heaved a sigh, which he immediately regretted, as shooting pains darted through his lungs. He needed to try to go see the other man, but until now he'd not even been able to contemplate getting out of his own hospital bed. He was finally feeling just strong enough that he thought he could attempt it. Pressing the call button, he put on the smile that always got him out of trouble with Michelle. He just hoped that it would work on his nurse.

Approximately twenty minutes – and one complicated conversation with his nurse – later, Sam found himself seated in a wheelchair being pushed slowly through the ICU from his room to Deeks', which he discovered was only a short distance around the corner from his own. The CNA – he thought her name was Debbie – guiding his chair was about to push him inside his teammate's room when the chair stopped abruptly and Sam looked up.

"I'm sorry, but I can't take you in," Debbie said, "only one visitor at a time."

It was then that Sam had a clear view through the floor to ceiling window that formed part of the wall to Deeks' room. The other man, who appeared to be asleep, did indeed have a visitor. Sam sat up slightly in surprise as his eyes fell on the figure occupying the chair by Deeks' bed. Before he could even fully register what – or rather who – he was seeing, he felt the chair spring into motion beneath him once again.

"Wait," he said softly but firmly, looking up at Debbie. "I'd like to sit out here, just for a few minutes if that's alright. I need to…" he trailed off, unable to finish the thought as he was forced to take a slow, deep breath to combat the pain that raced through his chest from trying to speak too rapidly. "….I just need to be here."

Debbie looked him in the eye for a long moment before nodding. "Just a few minutes, Agent Hanna. When I come back, we're going back to your room – no arguments," she gazed at him expectantly until he nodded his agreement. She walked away then, leaving Sam with his thoughts as he turned back to observe Deeks with his visitor. Seeing the detective's condition for himself brought Sam no peace, and he watched as Deeks fidgeted in the bed, his hair matted to his temples with sweat, his sleep evidently not restful. Even from his place in the hallway, Sam could see the ugly bruises and cuts decorating Deeks' jaw, cheekbone, and the bridge of his nose.

As he continued to stare at his teammate through the glass that separated them, Sam caught his own haggard reflection in the tall window for a brief moment before staring past it and refocusing on Deeks. He couldn't help but note the irony in the fact that other than in the ER, the last time he'd seen the detective they'd also been separated by panes of glass.

"A fragile barrier, but nonetheless, an extremely effective one," a familiar voice said, just as a presence that was decidedly not Nurse Debbie materialized at Sam's left elbow.

"Hetty," he acknowledged, turning his head slowly to face his boss while trying not to induce any of the streaking pains that often accompanied his faster movements.

"Mister Hanna," she said with a nod, her expression and tone grave. "While I applaud your initiative in getting yourself up and about, I cannot help but think that your physician would find it to be jumping the gun more than just a bit."

Sam looked at her for a moment before turning back to peer into Deeks' room. "I'd been hearing reports from Callen, but I needed to see for myself." He fell silent as they both watched the detective's fitful sleep. "It's not looking good, is it Hetty?"

He heard the older woman sigh heavily, the sound seemingly dragged from her against her will. When she finally spoke, it was in a softer, wearier voice than Sam had ever heard her use before. "No, I'm afraid it doesn't, Mister Hanna." Then he thought he heard a trace of her habitual amusement enter her voice. "But then, I do believe that Mister Deeks has rather made a habit of defying expectations."

Sam forgot himself for a moment and instinctively chuckled at the somewhat humorous observation - which was so uniquely Hetty that it had injected the smallest bit of normalcy into the otherwise tense moment. A beat later though, and his breath caught sharply as he winced. "I know," he said slowly, his tone laced with resignation, before Hetty could speak. "Back to bed."

"Right now, Mister Hanna," Hetty agreed, a small smile crossing her face as she gestured to someone just out of Sam's eyeline. "I believe Debbie here is ready to take you back to your room."

Debbie stepped up behind Sam's chair and began to turn him when Hetty spoke again. "Oh, and Mister Hanna, if I find out that you've been up again before your doctor authorizes it, I don't think you'll care too much for the outcome," she said, her smile growing wider and more mischievous. "I've always thought a Challenger would make a splendid addition to my automobile collection."

And with that, she patted him on the hand and was gone, strolling away down the corridor and leaving Sam to gape at her retreating back for a moment before Debbie steered him away as well.

 

* * *

 

_Deeks blinked slowly, pulling himself back into consciousness by degrees. But when his eyes were finally fully open, he wished that he'd kept them shut. He could see Sam staring at him through the thin glass barrier separating them, his teammate's eyes full of such pain that it was difficult for Deeks to bear holding his gaze for very long._

_He could feel the restraints binding him to the chair he'd been dumped into earlier, and before he knew it, Sidorov's thuggish sidekick was looming over him again...but...this wasn't right...was it? They'd been rescued...hadn't they? No…wait…they'd had to stay…Kensi said…_

_His mind swam...head spinning in a way that made him uncomfortably nauseous. A coughing spasm hit him before the goon could touch him again with the drill, wracking his upper body painfully...he started to choke on something that was rising up, filling his mouth and spilling over past his lips...he looked down as far as the restraints would allow, expecting to see the white cotton of his shirt slowly turning red as it wicked up the blood that was surely dripping from his mangled mouth..._

_...and instead found himself staring down into a sink...specifically the sink in the kitchenette behind his desk in the bullpen. Globs of greenish smoothie were the only liquid at the bottom of the sink...not blood...disoriented, he looked around, finding the space mostly empty and himself somehow free from his bonds._

_"Whoa," he muttered under his breath. "The scene change was a little more_ _**Matrix** _ _-y than I'd have liked, but the location's an improvement, so..." He trailed off, peering around carefully. The immediate area - actually, the entire building - was eerily empty and silent. He turned around slowly, a nervous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He felt a slight, inexplicable soreness there as he called out for his partner. "Kens?" She wasn't at her desk, and his instinct, as always, was to seek her out first. That impulse, to find her, check in with her, before the rest of the team, was so deeply ingrained now that it wasn't even something he gave a second thought to._

_But she didn't seem to be in the building. His own voice echoing and reverberating off the tiled floor was the only response he got to his query. Spidey-senses tingling unpleasantly, he tried the other members of the team, walking further into the bullpen as he called their names. "Callen? Hetty?" he paused and looked up the steps to Ops. "Nell? Eric?" Finally, though with more reluctance than he'd felt in shouting for the others, he tried again. "Sam?"_

_Still nothing...for the space of several seconds, though it felt more like an eternity, all Deeks sensed was the oppressive pressure of absolute silence. It weighed on him, an almost tangibly physical sensation as well as a rushing thrum that was more of a feeling than a sound and that seemed to fluctuate in intensity. It reminded him of being able to hear blood rushing in his ears or the way the ocean sounded, closing over him and surrounding him whenever he lost a wave and went under. It was almost as though he_ _**couldn't** _ _hear, the silence itself was so thick._

_"Guess Simon and Garfunkel had a point..." he muttered to himself._

_"That's all you have to say?" his partner's voice finally sliced harshly through the hush that had fallen over the Mission. He turned quickly to face her, his head again swimming unpleasantly at the fast movement. He was so relieved to see her that he barely wondered how she'd appeared there all of a sudden._

_He struggled to catch up with the conversation. "Uh, just a little joke, Kens. 'Sounds of Silence' and all that, you know?" He grinned as she frowned slightly. "I'll admit, it's not my best work, but I'm, ah, not feeling so grea grea-"_

_"I have something to say," she continued, as if she hadn't heard him. She crossed her arms over her stomach and glanced at him, opening her mouth to speak though she seemed oddly hesitant._

_"Wait. What? That's not...this is...did I time travel?" he babbled, trying to make sense of a situation that was rapidly seeming less and less normal._

_"You always talk this much during a stakeout?" a deep voice questioned from behind him. He spun around, seeing a familiar figure seated at the desk next to his own._

_"Sam!" he exclaimed, not quite sure why he was hit with a surge of overwhelming relief at seeing the other man sitting there looking so completely normal. Especially as he was also feeling an inexplicably unease at seeing his teammate. Then Sam's words registered with him. "Uh...yeah...I've told you that...but we're not on one right now, so..."_

_"I know you're trying to rile me but I won't be riled," Sam continued, leaning forward and looking at Deeks intently._

_"I'm_ _**not** _ _trying to-" he cut himself off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Is everyone going crazy? Am I being_ _**Punk'd** _ _?" As he spoke, looking back and forth between Kensi and Sam, he was confused – and more than a little horrified – to see Sam suddenly double over in his chair with no apparent cause. "Sam?" he called out, moving closer to the older man and hunching over to see him more clearly. "Do you need help?"_

_Even though he was gritting his teeth against obvious pain and shaking severely, Sam forced out words that Deeks was just able to catch. "The day I need your help, Deeks, is the day I hang up my gun."_

_Deeks' concern was still present, but a creeping feeling of anger for the other man began to override it. "Are you questioning my abilities?" he asked. Sam remained silent, but arched back in his desk chair, shaking more intensely, as though being tormented by some invisible but intense source of pain. When he didn't answer, Deeks tried again. "My character, then?"_

_"Something like that," Sam ground out._

_Deeks straightened, disbelief that Sam would actually go there stiffening his spine and causing him to take a few steps back. That was when he noticed it had gotten very quiet behind him. Shaking his head regretfully he said. "Way to have my back there, partner."_

_He turned to face where Kensi had been standing, only to discover the reason for her silence during his bizarre standoff with Sam. Too engrossed in a conversation with Detective Danny Williams to notice what had been going on between him and Sam, Kensi couldn't even seem to spare a glance in Deeks' direction._

_"Okay," he all but shouted, "is_ _**anyone** _ _going to tell me what the_ _**hell** _ _is going on?! Where did_ _**he** _ _come from?!" He pointed at Danny before flinging his arms wide, the gesture encompassing the entire bullpen. "Am I going completely crazy?!"_

_In answer, Kensi turned to him. "Figure it out," she said with a grin that didn't match her tone at all. "Figure it out…figure it out…figure it out…"_

_"Kens-" he began, but was stopped in his tracks when out of nowhere, Danny, who'd remained silent this whole time, raised a previously unnoticed gun and abruptly fired directly at him. The round hit him, knocking him onto his back as pain bloomed in his abdomen, before Danny stepped in, leaning over him, and firing again at close range._

_Kensi's shell-shocked face swam before his eyes, and for some reason that made no sense to him right then, the thought that he might have just kissed her ran through his mind. Danny had disappeared, and the ceiling – not the Mission's, but one belonging to a very familiar convenience store, swirled and swooped above him as pain ripped through him in every direction, blisteringly hot and only increasing in intensity._

_He fought it, but after a few moments, he couldn't stand the agony any longer. His eyes rolled back in his head and everything slid into the blissfully pain-free darkness of unconsciousness._

 

* * *

 

The next time Deeks was aware of opening his eyes, the utter agony he'd been enduring had lessened, but only very slightly. Truthfully, it seemed like he still hurt in every possible part of his body. Though oddly, given where he'd been shot, the pain seemed to be worst not in his chest, but in his mouth. He felt uncomfortably warm too, to the point where he was dripping with sweat, though he also felt a shuddering chill chasing down his spine every few moments. He didn't have any sense of where he was and looked around carefully, taking in the crisp blue sheets and sterile atmosphere that gave his location away easily – the hospital. It was late, he guessed, from what little he could see of the dark sky outside his small window, and the fact that the lights both in his room and the hallway seemed dimmer than usual.

A head of familiar dark hair was peeking out from above a blanket draped over the chair next to the bed he was lying on, and Deeks knew that his partner was curled up underneath it, sleeping in what must be the world's most awkward position. The scene gave him a strange sense of déjà vu.  _Had she been here more than once? How long had_ _ **he**_ _been here? Where_ _ **was**_ _here?_  But more pressing to his muddled mind than any of those questions, one other kept rising to the surface of his thoughts.

Before he knew it, he'd called her name softly, and then slightly louder a second time when she didn't immediately respond. At the second attempt, she bolted upright in the chair, looking at him with a mixture of panic and relief in her dark eyes. "Deeks!" she exclaimed, standing and moving next to his bed. "You're awake!" She smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes and she seemed exhausted.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Feel like hell, though."

"I'm not surprised," she murmured, reaching out and taking his left hand in both of hers.

"Of course you're not," he agreed, she  _had_  been there for his shooting, after all. He continued, not really taking note of the deepening confusion on her face. "But I have to ask, Kens, why did you let Danny shoot me?"

"What?" The confusion now morphed to visible concern. "Deeks. You weren't shot. By anyone." She leaned further over his bed, her worried face coming fully into Deeks' field of vision. " _When_  do you think this is? What do you remember…what do you think happened to you?" she peered down at him intently, never letting go of his hand.

"Uhhh…" was all he could manage. The edges of his vision were starting to get fuzzy and a pounding sensation had started in his head. "I…uhhhhh…." He blinked up at Kensi, her features starting to blur despite her close proximity.

"Deeks, c'mon…you're not playing the amnesia card again, are you? It wasn't really that funny the first time. If that's what this is, you'll regret it once you're better." She was trying to joke with him, he could tell, though as usual, her material needed improvement, and her timing kinda sucked. He thought she also looked maybe liked she'd been crying…but that couldn't be right, could it?

Her attempt at intimidating him brought a grin to his face though. "Ahh…always with the threats…that's my girl," he slurred, his voice barely above a whisper, before the darkness claimed him once again. As it pulled him under, he thought he heard Kensi calling his name.

 

* * *

 

Not long after Nurse Debbie had deposited him back in his room and resettled him in his own bed, Sam had found himself staring out the window, though he wasn't really seeing the deepening twilight. He had kept turning his conversation with Hetty over and over in his mind – he knew he should probably try to get some sleep, but it was also difficult for him to let go of the images of Deeks, both in the warehouse and fighting for his life in the room just down the hall.

His thoughts had wandered to the exchange he'd had with Deeks not long before the entire op with Sidorov had gone sideways. Despite everything that had happened since, the words were still crystal clear in his memory – almost as if they'd been burned into his brain.

_"I can take the crap you dish out ten times over…I'm just curious about the why," Deeks' voice carries an uncharacteristic edge as he faces Sam across the park's stone chessboard._

_"I'm Navy straight up. Everything you do is different. The way you dress, your jokes, your hair," he replies. Staring unflinchingly back at Deeks, he sees the disbelief and anger flicker in the detective's eyes for a split second before he tamps them down and a determined look settles over his face._

_"If this is about my haircut, it needs to_ _**end** _ _," Deeks tells him, his tone leaving no doubt as to exactly how pissed off he is in that moment._

_"It's not about your hair," Sam clarifies, gesturing between himself and Deeks, his own irritation bleeding through into his voice. "It's about what it says about you as a person," he fires back before he really processes what he's saying and the impact it will likely have on the other man._

_Deeks is definitely angry now, but keeps his demeanor cool, his emotions under tight control. "So you're saying it's about my character?" he questions._

_Sam shifts uncomfortably, suddenly feeling as though he's lost the upper hand in this conversation and not at all liking the sensation of being on the receiving end of an interrogation. Especially, he realizes, as Michelle can hear every word. If he knows his wife at all, he knows he'll hear about this from her later. There's a long pause before he finally reluctantly responds. "…Yeah…something like that."_

He must have fallen asleep at some point after that, though he doesn't remember it. But the next thing Sam knows, it's morning and he's being pulled out of his thoughts by a light knock on the partially open door of his room. Turning, he sees the blonde detective leaning against the door frame, and a surprised but genuine grin spreads across his features. "So I  _wasn't_  imagining things. I  _did_  see you in Deeks' room."

Danny Williams pushed himself away from the door and strode into the room, taking a seat in the empty chair next to Sam's bed. "I'm not a hallucination, no," he said, tilting his head as he looked Sam over. "Though given what I understand happened to you, I can see why you might have thought that I was."

Sam grimaced at the reminder. "How much do you know?"

Danny shrugged. "Probably not everything about the op, but enough. Your partner filled me in on the basics. Sounds like you guys were up against a really nasty piece of work."

"That's an understatement," Sam snorted. "Do you know what he…what he did to –"

Danny cut him off with a gesture and a knowing look. "Callen told me that much, yes."

He holds Danny's gaze for a moment before shaking his head, grateful that he doesn't have to explain the details of the hours of torture to the other man. He has difficulty enough dealing with the memories when they rise up, unbidden, washing over him in a horrifying wave. Speaking about what had happened would be even worse – though he's sure that at some point he will  _have_  to talk about it, he isn't looking forward to that day.

Danny nodded back at him, a look of understanding passing over his face, before continuing. "I'm just glad he told me  _something_  – when your boss called me, she wouldn't say what was going on. Just that there had been an emergency situation involving Deeks and that I needed to get to LA as soon as I could. Scared the crap out of me, if I'm being honest – I thought for sure I'd land here only to find out he was dead."

Sam suddenly felt lost. "Wait…Hetty called you to come here?  _For_ Deeks?"

"Uh…yes," Danny said slowly, looking back at Sam with confusion that turned to sheepish contriteness. "I mean…no offence…once I found out you'd been captured, I wanted to see how you were too, of course, but on the phone, Hetty only mentioned Deeks."

Sam waved off the other man's concern. He hadn't been insulted – he was just confused. "No, no…I meant…why did she call you about Deeks at  _all_?"

Danny scratched the back of his neck before shrugging. "I think she just thought he could use a friend – support from someone that hadn't been part of whatever it was you guys just went through. Some outside perspective, you know?" He chuckled briefly, but it was a grim sound. "I'd say she undersold how badly he needs that support."

Now Sam was even more confused. Pointing at Danny before gesturing in the direction of Deeks' room, he said, "But…I thought the two of you couldn't stand each other…" he looked at Danny inquiringly.

A look of startled comprehension dawned on Danny's face. "Ohhhh…so he never told you?" When Sam shook his head in the negative, Danny coughed and glanced at him before leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "After we were here for that case a year and a half ago there was some…ehhh, routine paperwork, you know?" he waved dismissively, as if to indicate how boring said paperwork was. "It was a stupid thing, PD to PD interoffice bull…but it had to be filled out. I called him for the info or he called me...can't really remember, but we got talking…" Danny trailed off for a moment, looked at Sam and shrugged. "…and figured out we had more in common than we thought. We've kept in touch. Became pretty good friends, actually."

"Huh, I didn't know any of that," Sam said slowly, considering why Deeks might have kept something like that to himself. Given the recent tensions that had flared between him and the younger man, and the fact that he was realizing that mutual antagonism had roots going back to when the detective had first joined the team, he didn't think it was actually all that surprising that Deeks had chosen not to share – at least not with him. Danny's next words pretty much confirmed Sam's reasoning.

"Well, I know he mentioned it to his partner…I guess I  _did_  assume he might've mentioned it to the rest of you, but I can't say I'm completely surprised that he didn't. I don't exactly make too much out of it with most of the rest of my team either." He looked down for a moment before meeting Sam's gaze directly. "Sometimes you just need to be able to talk or vent to somebody who understands the general type of baggage that comes with the job, but who doesn't have  _exactly_  the same set of luggage, if you know what I mean."

Sam's thoughts drifted to his relationship with his wife. This most recent case, where she knew  _everything_  he did, was a rarity. But he could usually give her, if not the specifics of the ops he was sent on, at least the general idea of what he went through. Having Callen's support, and knowing that his partner had his back, meant a lot to Sam, but there was something even more important about being able to talk –  _really_  talk – to someone who understood, but wasn't part of the exact same world he was. Though it was no doubt different than sharing that kind of bond with a spouse, Sam found himself wondering exactly how deep Danny and Deeks' friendship went and how much Deeks might have confided in the other detective over the past year-plus. From the knowing look Danny was giving him, he thought it might have been more than Sam was strictly comfortable with. But he didn't see judgment on the other man's face, only thoughtful concern. After a long silence between the two, Sam softly spoke three important words, his voice tinged with regret. "I misjudged him," he murmured.

Now it was Danny's turn to nod. "I did too, once. And he did the same thing to me. But we changed – we worked it out."

"That might not be possible this time," Sam said, voicing the thought that had been gnawing at him since he'd looked through the window to Deeks' room and seen his teammate's pale, sweat-drenched form shivering in his bed. "I might not get that chance to make amends."

When he met Danny's eyes this time, all Sam could see staring back at him was a mirror image of his own resignation and fear. He didn't say anything, and neither did Danny. Sam appreciated that the other man wasn't trying to give him false hope – the platitudes would likely just ring hollow at the moment anyway – but all the same, after a few moments, the silence itself became deafeningly thick and heavy.

Thankfully, they seemed to come to an unspoken agreement to move on to other topics for the time being and spent about some much more upbeat time together talking about their children – Sam's daughter and Grace were close in age – until the day shift nurse arrived with the lumpy oatmeal that was supposed to be his breakfast.

He bid Danny goodbye at that point, which the detective returned with a grin and a promise to come see him again the next day. When he was finally alone again, Sam turned himself as much as his aching body would allow so that he could have a decent view out of his room's window. Staring up at what little he could see of the now blindingly sunny Los Angeles sky, he thought long and hard about everything he'd seen and the conversations he'd had with both Hetty and Danny. He promised himself, and Deeks, that – if given the chance – he would fix his recent mistakes.

He just hoped that he had time.

 

* * *

 

_Deeks awoke with a jolt, his body tensed and his heart racing with the familiar yet fleeting sensation of adrenaline rushing through his system. It took a moment for him to realize where he was – the soft sheets of the double bed were tangled around him, pinning him in place, and he carefully wiggled himself free as he tried to calm his pounding heart. As he turned onto his side he saw the long sweep of brunette hair in front of his face and was suddenly aware of the warmth radiating off of the figure in front of him._

_Memories came rushing back to him all at once…sleeper agents…the suburbs…teasing Kensi for her failed attempts at cooking…marathon jogging sessions around the endless loops of cookie cutter suburban streets. He'd never admit it to Kensi, but he really wasn't a fan of the 'bro-sack' he'd had to hide Eric's electronic scanning equipment in – he'd only given it the silly sounding name to make the experience of having to wear it a bit more fun. Of course, then she'd had such a strong negative reaction to it and he just couldn't back down from teasing her by pretending to defend it. But that was what they did, wasn't it? One of them pushed, the other pulled – or really, pushed back was more like it given how often they butted heads on just about everything._

_Yet for all that, he was finding himself feeling more and more at ease in their partnership. They were almost two full years in by this point, and somewhere along the line, they'd gone from merely tolerating each other to actually enjoying the other person's company…no longer were they merely two strangers forced to work together towards the same end goal, but a cohesive unit that was actually pretty great at working cases – well, when they weren't bickering with each other. And more than that, they'd truly become friends…he couldn't speak for Kensi, but in his case, she was his closest friend now, outside of Ray – and in a way, he thought that while Ray knew where he came from, and who he was when he was a kid, Kensi might actually know him better_ _**now** _ _._

_Who was he kidding, really? She_ _**was** _ _his best friend…and then…then there was that ever-present, never-discussed, mutually-acknowledged-yet-somehow-mutually-denied "thing." The closer they'd gotten in other ways, the stronger the "thing" had grown. He really had to stop thinking of it as the "thing" – it made it sound like a horror movie creature. He snorted a bit, amused by his own thoughts, before sliding ever so carefully closer to woman sleeping next to him. He couldn't resist, even if he was taking a bit of a risk – if Kensi woke up and saw him this close, she'd probably knee him in…well…the bro-sack, so to speak._

_But as he got closer to the woman sharing his bed, something seemed a bit…off. For a split-second he couldn't quite figure out what…but all at once, it hit him. Her hair wasn't long enough, her perfume – far from Kensi's usual citrusy scent that reminded him of sunshine – was a heavy floral aroma, and as she rolled over to face him he could see the distinctive beauty mark on her cheek._

_He closed his eyes in frustration just as Monica wound her arms around him and buried her head against his chest. "Hey, Maxie…can't you sleep?" she mumbled, barely waiting for an answer before falling back asleep herself._

_Rolling onto his back and putting as much space between them as her grip on him would allow, Deeks stared at the ceiling of what he now knew was an entirely different cover house than the one he'd assumed he was in when he'd woken up. He wondered yet again how he'd gotten into this mess...and just how much worse it was going to get when the team finally found out the truth about his undercover assignment._

_He also wondered why he was…wet. Soaked to the skin, head to toe. That hadn't been the case when he'd first woken up, had it? And he didn't think he'd been feeling dizzy – though Monica's perfume_ _**was** _ _really strong, it wasn't enough to make him feel like this. He reached up to push his hair out of his eyes and the strangest sense of disorientation washed over him. It was as though he were floating, yet inexplicably weighted down somehow._

_Rolling over to try to escape the feeling, he found himself kneeling on hard concrete. "Oh, great…the inexplicable teleporting again. "Fantaaaastic," he drawled to himself, just before someone behind him reached under each of his arms and picked him up, dragging him across the hard surface to where he was suddenly aware that Sam lay motionless. The unseen person released him, shoving him so he half-tumbled onto Sam. He caught himself at the last moment and stared down at his teammate, who was just as thoroughly soaked as he was and didn't appear to be breathing._

_Without further thought, he knew what he needed to do. Those years of lifeguarding finally being put to good use, he loosened the buttons on Sam's shirt and started performing CPR. Time seemed to crawl by agonizingly slowly and still Sam was unresponsive. Deeks went through two full rotations of chest compressions and artificial respiration, and was about to start the third cycle of compressions when Sam_ _**finally** _ _reacted. The other man twitched slightly, then more violently, and Deeks rolled him onto his side just in time for him to expel a large amount of pool water from his lungs._

_Before he could do anything to help Sam further – in fact, before he could even call out to him where he lay coughing and retching on the ground – Deeks heard heavy footsteps behind him. They were moving so quickly that he only barely had time to register them before something hard cracked him across the back of his skull and he lost consciousness yet again._

_He slid into the darkness easily, almost welcoming it as it rolled over him this time…_

 

* * *

 

Three days after his conversation with Danny, Sam's doctor  _finally_  gave him the all clear to leave his bed for brief amounts of time. He was even allowed to go for short trips around the hospital. As of this morning, he was even able to make those trips on foot instead of in his wheelchair. He was beginning to feel  _almost_  normal, and he was itching to get to the point where they would let him take care of himself most of the time, or better yet, release him.

But for all his progress, he wasn't quite there yet. He would have to settle for the fact that it no longer hurt when he breathed too deeply, and he didn't run the risk of doubling over with muscle spasms at random intervals. Really, it  _was_  getting better. He knew that he was lucky. To top it all off, he'd heard from Callen that Janvier had been caught today and the bombs recovered. Viziri was an unfortunate casualty at Janvier's hand, but otherwise the loose ends of this case had been wrapped up as smoothly as possible.

But the best news of all was that Deeks' health had also improved greatly. The blood infection that had been waging its attack on his system had finally responded to the antibiotics that his doctor had been pumping into him and, though he was extremely weak and still sleeping most of the time, his fever had officially broken yesterday morning and they expected him to make a slow, but full recovery.

Sam had been to see Deeks every day since his conversation with Danny, but his teammate had slept through each visit. So he'd simply sat and watched the younger man, thinking about the time they'd spent working together over the past few years and all of the experiences that had led them to arriving at this point together. He kept going back to the moments when they'd disagreed, of which there seemed to be plenty, but he also had time to recollect every instance where Deeks had surprised him – in a good way. The more time Sam had to reflect on their shared history, the clearer what he needed to do became.

But the difference between  _knowing_  you need to apologize to someone and actually  _doing_  it is substantial, and Sam was never good at admitting when he was wrong. So when he finally walked slowly into Deeks' room for his daily visit that afternoon, he was gripped with a strange and unfamiliar feeling of nervousness when he saw that Deeks was, in fact, awake. Suddenly, Sam realized that for the first time since that chess match in the park, they were both conscious and completely alone. In fact, they were even  _more_  alone than they were in the park, since here there was no one listening over comms, just the slow and steady beeping of the machines that Deeks is still hooked up to. Sam took a deep breath before looking the other man in the eyes. It was harder than he'd like to admit to maintain eye contact, but he managed it. "Hey," he muttered quietly, "I know I'm probably not who you really want to see right now…"

He let it trail off, expecting –  _hoping_  – that Deeks will say something.  _Anything_.That he'll joke it off like he normally does, or even that he'll cut him off and tell him to leave, but Deeks doesn't say a word. He just stared at Sam, his eyes wider and face more vulnerable than Sam had ever seen it. It was very similar to the look he'd seen through the grimy glass doors of Sidorov's body shop, and as an uncomfortable silence billowed around them, Sam began to wonder whether Deeks was really even seeing him – it felt to Sam like the other man was looking  _through_  him more than at him. After what felt like forever, Deeks coughed sharply before finally speaking. "I've been seeing you over and over, all the time, whether I want to or not…" he said, his voice little more than a rough, slurred whisper. Frankly, given what he'd watched Sidorov and Andros do to Deeks' mouth, Sam was amazed the other man could talk at all.

"Excuse me?" Sam asked. He didn't know what he'd expected, but that wasn't it. "Why?"

"I need to know that this is real," Deeks said softly. It sounded like every word cost him tremendous effort. "I've seen you every single day…drowning, in trouble, and sometimes…and…it always starts normally….but then it's not normal…not  _real_. They say it was hallucinations from the fever, but I don't know if they…the doctors…are  _part_ of the hallucination. Is this real?" Deeks stared at him, the look of confusion in his eyes genuine. Sam was floored. He'd had no idea that Deeks had been experiencing hallucinations – it must have been from the infection. Sam didn't give it more than a second's thought before reaching out and taking Deeks' wrist in his left hand. He pulled the detective's arm towards him gently before pinching Deeks' forearm with his right. He didn't apply too much pressure, but enough that he knew Deeks could feel that it was real. He saw the realization sweep over the other man's face, relief relaxing his features at last as he sagged against his pillows.

After another moment, just as Sam was about to try speaking again, Deeks scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. "Thanks for humoring me," he mumbled, his eyes shifting around the room before landing on a spot just to the left of Sam's shoulder. "Well? Now that we've established that this is, in fact, reality…what do you want, Sam?"

He took a deep breath, locking his gaze on Deeks' before speaking, attempting to let the other man see his sincerity through his eyes as well as his words. "Like I was saying, I know that I'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but  _I_  needed to see  _you_. I need…" he faltered for a moment before gathering himself and starting again. Even now, knowing what he wanted to say, and being given the perfect opportunity, these words did not come easily for him. "I owe you for the rest of my life for what you did for me," he said slowly, reaching out impulsively and gently squeezing Deeks' foot where it lay under the light hospital blankets. It was an instinctive gesture, meant to reassure, and not one that Sam would have found himself making towards the detective in the past. Now, he hadn't even hesitated. "I just wanted you to know," he murmured gruffly before turning to go.

A shaky breath from Deeks caused Sam to turn around just before he reached the door. "Ahh-haa-aaa….I think I'm…uh…I think I'm done with being a cop," the younger man breathed, sounding as if it cost him everything just to force the words out.

Sam swung back around to face him, shaking his head slightly before coming a few steps closer to Deeks' hospital bed. "That would be a huge mistake," he said pensively but without hesitation. Looking Deeks straight in the eye – or trying to, as the detective's gaze seemed to be unable to settle on any one thing for very long – he tried to make him understand that these words were genuine. "You're a great cop," a half-smile tugged at Sam's mouth, "you're gonna make a great agent-"

Before he could go on, Deeks shook his head, huffing out something that's mixed halfway between a laugh and, Sam thinks, a sob. But whatever else it might have been, it was unmistakably filled with disbelief. Before Sam could really hear it though, Deeks managed to cut it off, finally turning his gaze to Sam's and holding it for more than a fleeting second. "I never thought I'd hear that coming from you," he said, his voice gravelly with repressed emotion.

"Yeah, that was my mistake," Sam admitted, and a silence billowed between them, but for the first time since they've known each other, Sam didn't find admitting his errors awkward or uncomfortable. Instead all he felt was a kind of kinship with the man before him, sitting alone and looking scared yet somehow still defiant. He nodded almost imperceptibly. "I won't make it again." Deeks simply continued to look at him for the space of several long, slow blinks until the detective finally shifted his gaze away.

Sam turned to leave once more when he heard Deeks' voice from behind him again. "Uh…it kinda sucks that it took this mess for you to change your mind about me." And Sam can't help the wry grin that spreads across his face.  _That's more likethe Deeks I know. Well, at least I know how to respond to that. I hope._  Turning back again to face the other man, Sam nodded before speaking slowly. "I can't deny that what happened this entire op was an eye-opener, but that's not really what did it, Deeks. Not on its own, anyway," he said, folding his arms over his chest.

Deeks simply tilted his head and looked at Sam inquisitively, implicitly giving him the go-ahead to explain.

Shaking his head, Sam spoke. "The entire time we've worked together up till now, I've focused on the wrong things…the things that are different about us. That's all I saw for a long time," he paused and when he caught Deeks' eye, he was fairly sure the other man was reliving their chess match in his mind, just as he had been. "I've had a lot of time to sit in here, and nothing much to do but think," he chuckled, gesturing between them as he continued. "I think I've replayed just about every conversation we've had in my mind at least once. And that's what made me see it."

Deeks' features contracted into a frown before he muttered a soft, "what?"

"The things that are the same about you and me. The heart, the loyalty…the stubbornness," he said with a smile, and he thought he saw the hint of a grin just dancing around the corner of Deeks' damaged mouth. "Those similarities have been there all along…I was just blind to them," he paused one more time, his tone returning to its original seriousness. "But like I said, that's on me. And I'm sorry. It won't happen again," he reiterated the promise one more time before gruffly nodding his head and finally leaving. He walked slowly back to his own room, still troubled by so many things, but in many respects feeling lighter.

 

* * *

 

Deeks stared at the closed double doors for a long time after Sam left. The conversation they'd had – one of the most surreal that he thinks he's  _ever_  had, and considering his recent fever dreams, that's saying something – replaying over and over in his head. He fiddled with the plastic clasp of the pulse oximeter where it gripped his finger.

Thoughts bounced around inside his brain seemingly at random, and no matter how hard he tried to focus, he couldn't seem to pull them into anything resembling order. He did manage to latch on to some of Sam's words, though, and while it was amazing to finally hear those things from his teammate, there's a small voice in the back of his mind that's insisting  _too little, too late_.

He really wants to believe that Sam's right – that it would be a mistake for him to turn in his badge. Or he  _thinks_  he wants to believe Sam…but part of him isn't so sure. For the first time since he'd decided he wanted to go to law school, there was no clear path laid out ahead of him, showing him where to go and what to do. He'd had that even when he was working the deepest of his deep undercover jobs – that sense of surety and purpose that let him know he was doing the right thing, following the right path.

But now, for the first time in a very, very,  _very_  long time…he knew that he was lost.


End file.
